The Assorted Celebrations of Lord Voldemort
by cissymalfoy
Summary: What really happens at Death Eater parties...
1. Chapter 1 Christmas

**Author**: Me (cissymalfoy, moonysangel)

Originally Published in the Snape's POV-post HBP thread on Mugglenet's Chamber of Secrets Forums

**Rating**: PG13 (reference to alcohol, violence to Wormtail)

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter & Co. belong to J.K. Rowling. I don't own them, or pretend to own them. Pinky and the Brain are the property of Warner Brothers. I don't own them either.

**Author's Note**: These stories may contain mild-HBP spoilers within. Read at your own risk, of course. I hope you enjoy wacky comedies...

Snape leaned against the wall by the fireplace, rubbing his aching temple with his free right hand, clutching an untouched glass of eggnog in his left. _I hate Christmas parties,_ he thought. _Why am I here?_

As if to answer him, his left forearm began to ache as well. _Whatever possessed the Dark Lord to throw a Christmas party? This is ridiculous. I wish I were back in my nice, warm, cozy dungeon reading a good book._ It wasn't that he hated Christmas, no, it was a perfectly fine holiday; it was just that people acted like perfect idiots every time it rolled around. Look at Lord Voldemort, busily decorating a Christmas tree, while several drunken Death Eaters ran around singing carols.

Snape was reluctant to move from nearby the fireplace, firstly because the room was freezing cold. Secondly, every time he moved, clumps of mistletoe seemed to pop up everywhere, and he was tired of surreptitiously incinerating them with his wand. He had no doubt where the mistletoe was coming from. Bellatrix and Narcissa kept standing around whispering to each other and eyeing him hungrily. Just like they were doing now.

Wormtail came bustling nervously out of the kitchen, bearing a tray of hors d'oeuvres. "Severus," he whispered. "Did you bring them?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Bring what?"

"The gifts! The Christmas presents for the Dark Lord! Please tell me you didn't forget them." Wormtail was visibly sweating, and it was probably not due to having been forced into kitchen service upon their arrival.

"Yes, you little idiot. I put them in the stocking with the rest of the presents." _Lazy little rat, couldn't even do your own shopping. I had to buy it for you! I hope the Dark Lord likes it…or do I?_

Relieved, Wormtail hurried over to the buffet table, swapped the tray for an empty one and disappeared back into the kitchen. Snape shook his head, looking over at the large stocking hanging from the mantle, touching the floor. It was green velvet with "Lord Voldemort" spelled out in large silver letters. The Dark Lord had commanded his followers to fill it with Christmas presents or suffer…consequences.

Sighing wearily, Snape reluctantly walked over to the buffet table, intent on ridding himself of the eggnog before he accidentally drank some of the vile stuff. _Who would want to drink something made with raw eggs? You could get food poisoning that way!_ He placed the full glass on the table and picked up a glass of green punch. It appeared to be safe to drink. A pile of silver and gold Christmas crackers lay at the end of the table. _Oh joy and delight,_ he thought, _crackers. Anyone who wants me to help pull one can shove it up their…_

"Ah, Severus! I have finished the tree, what do you think?" Lord Voldemort clapped Snape hard on the shoulder, causing him to stagger and spill his punch. _These were brand-new robes, too._ Snape looked at the tree. It was six feet of scrawny, scraggly ugliness that looked like it belonged in a stage production of _A Charlie Brown Christmas._ Most of the needles were on the floor around it. Lurid green miniature Dark Marks glowed among the branches. Moth-eaten red and green velvet bows, and what appeared to be gold-glitter-dipped dead Doxies were scattered haphazardly and randomly about the tree. "Lovely, my Lord. Wonderfully festive," Snape said, glancing up to check for mistletoe.

Voldemort smiled, "I knew you'd like it!" The drunk Death Eaters, now slumped in a corner began singing again. "ARRRG! _Crucio!_" screamed Voldemort, pointing his wand. "How many repetitions of 'Jingle bells, Muggles smell' do I have to put up with? _Silencio!_"

Snape used the distraction to walk back over to the warm spot by the fireplace, glancing upward again for mistletoe. "_Incendio_," he whispered, setting fire to the clump that had mysteriously appeared in his absence, smirking at the pouts that appeared on the faces of the sisters Black. Maybe Voldemort would get around to opening his presents soon and he could go home. Yes, he was starting to open them now. Wonderful. What fun.

"To the Dark Lord, from Wormtail," read Voldemort. Opening the package, he pulled out a yellow and black book. "_Dark Wizardry for Dummies?_"

Wormtail yelped. "A joke, just a joke, please, my lord," glaring at Snape, who simply smirked back.

"Well, I find _this_ funny…_Crucio!_"

_Hmm. I find that funny, too. Maybe next time Wormtail will do his own shopping. The Dark Lord's birthday is next week, after all…_


	2. Chapter 2 Voldemort's Birthday

Snape leaned against the warm spot by the fireplace, with a sinking sense of déjà vu. Back again, celebrating the Dark Lord's birthday. _Oh, how I love the Dark Lord's parties, _he thought, _dodging Unforgivables and those relentless Black sisters. At least I don't have to watch for mistletoe._

Snape surveyed the room, wishing for the night to end. Gone were the pathetic tree and the oversized Christmas stocking. Instead, a large shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling, with loud music blaring from the wireless, and giant streamers that read "Happy Birthday Dark Lord!" and "Voldemort Rules!" The table was piled with food, punch, and presents. _Hmm, _thought Snape, _no cake. Didn't he give that job to Narcissa? _

It was common knowledge among the Death Eaters that Narcissa was not only a terrible cook; she was a dangerous one. The last time she'd tried to cook anything, she'd set her kitchen on fire. It was only Lucius' quick actions that had saved their house. Since then, she'd been forbidden to set foot inside her kitchen unless it was to tell a house elf something. Given that fact, Snape found it distinctly odd that the Dark Lord had insisted Narcissa be the one to bake his birthday cake. _Probably more punishment for Lucius' incompetence at the Department of Mysteries fiasco last summer._

Snape eyed the pile of presents, picking out his gift, wrapped in green paper with a silver ribbon. It was a Dark Mark carved from green jade that had eaten up three months' salary. _He'd better like it. I could've bought lots of lovely books with that money._

Wormtail, hoping to prevent a repetition of last week, had rushed out the first day after Christmas that the shops opened back up, and purchased a present. It was wrapped in shiny blue paper, on top of the stack of gifts. Wormtail himself had been drafted into kitchen service (again), and was rushing to and fro between the kitchen and the table.

Lord Voldemort swirled by. "Great party, eh, Severus?" he asked, as he danced with Bellatrix, who smirked at Snape. _Did I just see one of those silly birthday hats on him? Yes, I did. It must be the eggnog._

Narcissa walked up to Snape. "Dance?"

"I'd rather drink poison. In fact, I believe I am. Excuse me, I need to go and have a word with Wormtail in the kitchen," said Snape, turning away, leaving Narcissa pouting by the table. Snape walked into the kitchen, and returned a few moments later. Narcissa still stood by the table, drinking some of the vile punch Snape had recently complained about.

"Don't you have to bake a cake or something? Set fire to the oven, or explode pots and pans? Cause havoc and mayhem?" Snape asked Narcissa.

She smiled evilly. "The cake is taken care of. But I let Wormtail put the candles on—he was pouting so."

_Yes, I saw that. In fact, I "helped" him out, only he doesn't know it._

"Cake? Who said cake? I want my birthday cake!" Voldemort had swirled back by, and overheard their conversation.

"Of course, my Lord! Let me go get it!" Narcissa raced into the kitchen. She reappeared moments later, with a large cake that she set on the table. Everyone looked at it, impressed. The icing was swirled artistically; it had dark ribbons along the sides, and what appeared to be marzipan Dark Marks on top. Candles ringed the outside of the cake. Voldemort eyed the candles. He appeared to be counting them.

"Did you put the candles on, Narcissa?" Voldemort asked, dangerously.

"Well, I let Wormtail do the candles."

"WORMTAIL! Get out here!" Wormtail raced out of the kitchen, red and sweaty.

"Y-yes, my Lord? Is there a problem?"

"Can you count, little rat? Do you not know my age? I am _NOT SIXTY-FOUR!_"

"My Lord! I counted, I promise I did!" Wormtail was shaking.

Snape quietly tucked the box of extra candles deeper in to his hidden pocket. Time for another round of Wormtail Crucio…

Several minutes later, Voldemort turned back to his cake. He cut himself a large slice, and tasted it. He looked at Narcissa.

"Who made the cake, Narcissa? You certainly didn't." Narcissa looked down at the floor. "I kidnapped someone to make it for me."

"Really? Who?" Everyone was looking at Narcissa with interest.

"Martha Stewart."

"_The_ Martha Stewart made my birthday cake?"

"Yes, my Lord. I had to use the Imperius Curse on her, but she did make it."

"Let me get this straight. You kidnapped a famous Muggle _and_ used an Unforgivable Curse on her, all to make me a birthday cake?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Narcissa, I don't know how to thank you. This is the best cake I've ever eaten." Voldemort was beaming at her. Narcissa looked at him.

"Could-you-get-Lucius-out-of-Azkaban-please?" she asked in one breath.

Voldemort looked at her. "Let me think about that--no. Lucius stays in prison. Nice try."

Narcissa fell at his feet, pleading. She got all teary-eyed, and looked up at him.

S_he's giving him the look that got me stuck in the Unbreakable Vow_, Snape thought, _let's see him say no to that!_

"_No!_" Voldemort raised his wand at Narcissa, who squeaked, and ran to hide behind her sister.

"Hey! Don't hide behind me!" Bellatrix snarled. "You don't hear me whining about Rodolphus being stuck in Azkaban too!"

"Well, unlike _you_, I miss _my _husband." Bellatrix whirled around to face Narcissa.

"I do so miss my husband! _I'm_ just not going to sit around and whine about how much I miss him, like you do! 'Oh, I miss Lucius so. Oh, I've not been kissed in months. Oh, I'm so lonely!' You sound like a pathetic Muggle romance book!"

Narcissa was well angry by now. "Well, at least Lucius kisses better that _your_ husband!" she spat.

"How would you know?"

Suddenly, there was a blur as the sisters leapt at each other, pulling hair, scratching, and trying to bite each other. The other Death Eaters gathered around, shouting encouragement, and taking bets.

"Hmm. Avery, four galleons on Bella to win. What do you think, Severus? Fancy a bet?"

"No, thank you, my Lord. I think I'll just watch."

_This is actually fun. Good cake, Wormtail got zapped, and now the sisters are scrapping._

After several minutes, Voldemort got bored, and hexed both sisters with his wand, sending them flying across the room in opposite directions.

"Well now," he said, "I think that's enough excitement. After all, this is _my_ birthday party. Kiss and make up, now." The sisters moved towards each other.

"No, no, not each other." Voldemort smiled most evilly, his red eyes gleaming. "It's _my_ birthday. Kiss _me_." Snape smirked as both sisters tried to hide their brief expressions of horror. Yes, things were definitely looking better and better…

In a dark corner near the fireplace, two small mice watched the proceedings with interest. One was small, with an oversized head and a calculating expression. The other was tall and thin, with an air of dottiness. "Yes," the small one said, "these 'magic' humans will do nicely for my plans. We shall start with the one they call 'Wormtail.'" It looked up at the taller mouse. "Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I think so, Brain," the taller one replied, "but Kevin Costner with an English accent? Besides, Brain, what are we going to do tonight?"

"The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!"


End file.
